


Rule of Three

by IAmANonnieMouse



Series: AELDWS 2019 [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 22:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20053381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: It can't be reality, because Eames isn't here.





	Rule of Three

**Author's Note:**

> AELDWS Week 4  
Prompt: Paranoid  
Genre: Anadiplosis*  
Word Count: Up to 350 words
> 
> *A rhetorical device in which a writer or speaker uses a word near the end of the clause and then repeats that word to begin the next clause; used to bring attention to a specific thing or concept.

The die comes up three, three, three.

Arthur rolls it again.

Three means reality, but reality means Eames should be in Arthur's apartment, and Arthur's apartment has no Eames. 

No Eames means something happened, and if something happened...

Arthur shakes himself. 

It's fine. Eames is fine.

His job ended two days ago. Eames was catching the first flight home. Which flight, Arthur doesn't know, and he's kicking himself now. He trusts Eames, but he should've known better than to trust everyone else.

He imagines Eames stumbling through the door, worn and travel-weary.

_Eames,_ he'll say, calm and poised, _let's only take jobs together from now on._

Arthur sighs.

Keys click, his lock turns. Eames barrels through the door, a tornado of activity, and tosses everything onto the floor with a bright smile.

"Darling!" he cries. "I've missed you!"

Arthur rushes toward him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?"

Eames' smile flickers. He pulls Arthur close, familiar and warm.

"You're late," Arthur whispers, voice ragged.

"I'm sorry, darling," Eames murmurs. "Took a quick detour on the way home. I should've left a note."

"What kind of detour?"

Eames hums softly. He gently disentangles himself from Arthur, pulls a ring from his pocket, and smoothly goes down on one knee.

"Arthur King," Eames says. "Will you marry me?"

They haven't made it past the front hall. Eames' things are still a lopsided pile on the floor. Arthur can't breathe.

"Where did you go?" he asks.

"Your parents. I had a lovely conversation with your father that's scarred me for life. Par for the course, really." Eames grins up at him, ring shining in his hand. "I'm sorry I worried you. But I wanted to do this right."

Arthur nods and smiles and says, voice filled with wonder, "Yes."

The rest is a blur: Eames jumping to his feet, Eames sliding the ring onto Arthur's finger, Eames holding Arthur close, Eames, Eames, Eames.

That night, Arthur tosses his die onto the nightstand but doesn't bother to check it. Eames is here, his ring wondrously heavy on Arthur's finger. This is reality.


End file.
